


A Plague on Your Three Houses

by kowaidesuka



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst and Humor, M/M, Spoilers, Sylvix Week (Fire Emblem), lots of shakespeare, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaidesuka/pseuds/kowaidesuka
Summary: Felix is gradually introduced to the rest of the cast, each more over-the-top than the last. Lorenz, who launches into his flowery speeches of devotion as Paris with fervour. The elusive Claude who seemed to pop up more and more in conversations he was present for, who took his minor role of apothecary very seriously. He even carried his potion bottle prop off stage and into classrooms and the cafeteria, and though he claimed it was just filled with water and food colouring, Felix was honestly not so sure anymore.There was also the matter of his own stupid brain, which couldn’t help but impulsively train his eyes to the stage whenever it was Sylvain’s turn to occupy it.Sylvix Week 2019 Day 7: family/forbidden love/flowers





	A Plague on Your Three Houses

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 “forbidden love” prompt: ah yes tragic love, secret feelings, commentary on Faerghus crest culture and the prevalence of marrying for status and not out of love
> 
> My pea brain: write a high school Romeo and Juliet play AU!! to assert your Sylvain theatre kid headcanon!!
> 
> Anyway it’s been literal yonks since I’ve had to peruse through a Shakespeare play and now that I’m not forced to read through and analyse… R&J isn’t actually too bad?? I read through the script and all these memories (not all bad ones) came flooding back :’) Also I made it slightly sadder than I was planning to because it ran away from me a little bit. 
> 
> Also, **Spoilers for Azure Moon**, kind of.
> 
> DRAMATIS PERSONAE:  
Felix: Tybalt  
Sylvain: Mercutio  
Dorothea: Juliet  
Ferdinand: Romeo  
Claude: Apothecary (lol)  
Lorenz: Paris  
Ashe: Benvolio  
Annette: Nurse  
Dimitri, Ingrid, Dedue, Byleth… okay, pretty much everyone else: they exist, but are not in the play

“_Tybalt, you rat catcher,_” the redheaded duellist clamoured, “_will you walk?_” His smile, though wide and taunting, did not quite reach his eyes, which took his would-be opponent in, staring intensely across the stage at the man before him, hand gripping his drawn sword.

Felix’s gaze was equally as transfixed, eyeing up the man without blinking, mouth pressed into a thin line. “_What wouldst thou have with me?_” he growled out, raising one challenging eyebrow.

“_Good kind of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives,_” Sylvain drawled out, arms open in a gesture of accommodation. 

“_that I mean to make bold withal, and as you_

_shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the_

_eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher_

_by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your_

_ears ‘ere it be out._”

His opponent, incensed by his provocation, gritted his teeth and drew out his sword with a harsh _shiiink_. “_I am for you,_” he said, rising up to his rival’s challenge, and promptly leapt forward to clash blades with Sylvain. A thrust, parry, riposte, another parry. It was an intense and dangerous tango, a dance they were loathe to finish, both men willing to throw their lives away in order to best their opponent; all the while, Ferdinand as gentle Romeo pleading for them to stop.

"You know you're in for a heck of a play when the two mortal enemies have more chemistry than the leading lovers," Dorothea whispered gleefully from the wing of the stage to a bemused Annette. They watched as Felix felled Sylvain, who collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap (represented by a chain of crimson handkerchiefs, as Vice Principal Seteth would kill them if they messed up the wooden panelling of the auditorium). Sylvain cried out curses as a frantic Ashe as Benvolio rushed to his side, while Felix stood, reveling in his status as a momentary victor, not knowing he would meet his own untimely death a few lines later. 

\------

Felix wasn't big on expressing himself other than in anger, his usual statements to the world at large short and curt. So when his homeroom and English II teacher, Mr. "Just call me Byleth" Eisner, sat him down and presented his latest essay marked with a giant red ‘D’, all he could utter in response was “Oh.”

"I believe congratulations are in order," Byleth said drily, referring to his win in the finals tournament over the weekend. "However, when it comes at the risk of jeopardising your grades for my class, you can pardon my lack of enthusiasm."

"Yeah," Felix said, biting his lip. "I'm really sorry." And he was; despite English being his absolute least favourite subject, Byleth's style of teaching made it somewhat tolerable to him. It's just-

"Time management isn't really your strong suit, I've found," his teacher continued. "I've been made aware by Coach Catherine that fencing season is over now, which means you'll have more time for my class, I hope?" Felix nodded mutely. "Look, Felix. Your grade is still passing for now, so your situation is far from precarious, and you'll have plenty of opportunities to make up for it in other assignments and the finals. However, I'd hate to have to send out report cards for this semester with your less than stellar performance so far." 

He winced internally, dreading the lengthy, long-winded lectures from his dad, the sighs and shaking of his head, and in particular, the needless comparisons to his friend Dimitri, who was able to achieve perfect grades even when juggling fencing, soccer, and Little League coaching on top of actively campaigning for Student Class President. Or even worse, the times where he was compared to Glenn, who was still placed on a pedestal, even two years after his passing. Scowling at the thought of it all, he asked, "Is there any way I can make up for it? Like an extra credit assignment or whatever?"

"I did have something in mind," Byleth said, looking pensively into the distance. "Not an assignment per se, more of an activity… completely voluntary of course. But if you do it, I'd be willing to bump your D grade to a C+ for this semester."

Well. It wasn't a perfect solution, but good enough to allow Felix some reprieve, such as the liberty to slam the door in his father's face mid-lecture without facing much consequence.

"Manuela… I mean Ms. Casagranda," his teacher corrected himself, "is directing the senior play for this year, Romeo and Juliet. She needs some extra cast members for a few unfilled roles, so I'm giving you the opportunity to participate in the performance for extra credit."

"Romeo and Juliet?" He wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that a little too… derivative?"

Byleth regarded him with a blank stare. "I was the one to recommend it to Manuela," he said coolly. _ Ah, shit. _ "I've always found its over the top nature charming, and it has some of the best soliloquies Shakespeare has ever composed."

"Even so... I can't act. I don't know the first thing about theatre," Felix protested. 

"You won't know unless you try," he replied simply. "If you're worried about being cast in either of the titular lead roles, don't worry; those were snapped up ages ago. Though, in some of our talks, Manuela sad she’d love to have some authenticity to her play, particularly in the combat scenes. She confessed to me that she thought you in particular would be well suited for Tybalt, and I’m inclined to agree. I believe you'd be able to…" a rare smile formed on his teacher's face, "breathe life into this role."

"How is spending hours outside of school in play rehearsals any different from me spending hours outside of school practising my fencing? I still will have less time to do my assignments," Felix pointed out.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because this way, you’d be spending your time on English regardless," his teacher retorted. "Now quit complaining and go to class."

\------

"Hey Felix! Just you and me again today?"

"Looks like it," he replied, glaring over his shoulder at the table where faculty usually sat. "Unless you invited that nurse to join us again."

"Hey, Mercie's not just any ol’ nurse, she's my friend," Annette protested, opening up a Tupperware box of her homemade cookies. The sweet scent wafted over to the opposite side of the table, making Felix’s nose wrinkle. “Besides, I know you have a soft spot for her, deep down.” She giggled, nonplussed by his grumbling in response.

It was pure serendipity that the woman Annette had been partnered up with in her first aid course happened to take up the position of one of their school nurses. Occasionally, Mercedes would join their little ragtag circle of friends at lunchtime when she didn’t have any nosebleeds or cold-ridden teens to look after, joining Annette in bringing sweets from home to share. 

Usually, Dimitri and Ingrid, and Dedue, a junior Dimitri had befriended last year during soccer tryouts, would also be sitting with them. Lately, however, they had been spending all their lunches and spare time assisting in Dimitri’s campaign, an endeavour they partook in since the tail end of last semester. Funnily enough, Dimitri’s most prominent competitor was his own step-sister, Edelgard. It made for awkward dinner times, he could imagine.

“Man, I can’t wait for this election to be over,” Annette remarked.

“I don’t. I’m enjoying the peace while it lasts,” Felix replied, eyes still trained on the table on the other end of the hall. Stupid Ms. Casagranda. He always thought it suspicious that she had been lurking in on their after-school practice matches for the season, scoffing when Dimitri had suggested perhaps she was there to help spread school spirit. _School spirit, my ass._

“True, our table can be quite lively,” she admitted. “But there’s no-one to share my cookies with since, well, you’re all like-” she scrunched up her face and huffed out in a lower voice, “‘I don’t like sweets.’”

“Mm.”

“I mean, maybe it’d be nice to have more people in our little circle, you know. I could start inviting this guy Ashe in my Trig class to sit with us. Though he does usually sit with Caspar and Linhardt…” the ginger-haired girl mused. “Oh, I know. I’ll invite all three of them! The more the merrier, right? … hey, are you even listening to me?!”

“What?” Felix snapped his head back to the direction of Annette.

“You’ve been glaring at the back of Ms. Casagranda and Byleth’s heads for the past ten minutes. What’s up with that?” she asked, curious.

Groaning, the testy sophomore gave a quick rundown of his and Byleth’s talks, and of the drama teacher skulking in the bleachers during their fencing sessions.

“So now, I’m either in the play, or I face the wrath of my father,” he finished with a huff. 

“The play?”

“What a pain. It’s so ridiculous,” Felix growled. “Who would genuinely want to take part in Romeo and Juliet? What kind of sappy fool do they take me for?”

Annette glared at him. "I'm in the play, you jerk."

"... Oh." He really couldn't take his foot out of his mouth today, could he? "But… you're a freshman?"

"Senior play is just a title. Anyone can join in."

“So I’ve heard,” he sighed. After he had been dismissed from their talk together, Felix had walked back to the classroom after recalling Byleth’s words. But the triumphant feeling that had swelled within him fizzled out when Byleth snorted and told him that ‘senior’ part of senior play was more of a formality rather than a requirement. “Most of your upperclassmen were too busy to participate this year, it seems,” the teacher remarked. “This is where the drama club and volunteers like yourself come in.”

“Guess you’re going to try and drag me there too?” he said, frowning at the bright-eyed girl.

"Well, like Byleth said, it's up to you. But…” she clapped her hands together. “It’d be so, so exciting and fun if you joined in!”

“It’d be an actual disaster,” he said. “I’d make a fool of myself. I don’t like standing in front of a crowd, with everyone watching me.”

“You… fence,” Annette said slowly. “In tournaments… where you stand in front of a crowd, with everyone watching you.”

“That’s completely different.” And it was. The familiar rhythm of parry and riposte, going through the motions of facing against faceless opponents, just him with his sword at his side, focusing on getting the win. There were no expectations placed upon him except to win, no need to pretend to be the perfect student, the perfect son. No need to look to anyone, to be anyone but himself.

Annette observed him all the while with a small smile on her face, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I think I get it now. But don’t worry. I think, in a way, you’ll kind of like the experience! There are some… not-so-sappy parts. And you’ll have me as support! And don’t worry, the drama club is full of nice, supportive people. They won’t mind if you screw up too much… or um… accidentally trip over and scuff up their sets…” she trailed off with a laugh.

“... I’ll think about it,” he said, finally.

“Please do! Read through the play when you get home. Or even just find the movie or something! I promise, you’ll like it. Especially your character.”

\------

Felix had to admit that she had… somewhat of a point.

Once he’d sat down and searched for a copy of the play online (a dumbed down, plain English version, as reading through the obfuscated text made his head spin), it really wasn’t as sappy as he assumed, and had a lot more brawling than he was led to believe by all the cliches. 

He even let himself be led to the auditorium without much protest, not feeling the urge to flee until he settled down in the middle rows with Annette and her new friend Ashe and laid his eyes upon the disgustingly cloying scene on the stage.

A boy with swooping orange locks catching the gaze of the brunette girl on the opposite side of the stage. Slowly, they walked toward each other, entranced. _This would be the part of the movie where the background music would start to swell to a crescendo,_ Felix thought to himself, revolted, loathing how he’d been subjected to enough romance films by his friends to know.

The boy, presumably Romeo, grasped at Juliet’s hand as if it were his lifeline. “_If I profane with my unworthiest hand_,” he declared, voice light, yet permeating the stage, 

“_This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:_

_My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand_

_To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss._”

“_Good pilgrim_,” the brunette girl gushed in return, “_you do wrong your hand too much,_

_which mannerly devotion shows in this,_

_For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,_

_And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss._”

The back and forth between the two lovers continued for a while, before ending with a few chaste kisses exchanged. ‘Juliet’ pulled back, noting with a smile, “_You kiss by th’book._”

“Cut!” the drama teacher cried, clapping her well-manicured hands together in delight. “Bravo, Ferdinand! Brava, Dorothea! Stunning performance, as usual. Keep it up.”

The two immediately relaxed, turning back to grin at each other. “Good work, Ferdie!” Dorothea said, high-fiving her partner. Felix recognised the girl, remembering how in previous semesters she had been the one actively promoting matinees in school assemblies and announcements every time the drama club put on a new performance.

“Welcome back, Annette and Ashe!” Manuela greeted them. “And Felix! Good of you to make it. Oh, I was over the moon when I heard from your teacher you agreed to play a part in our retelling of the world’s greatest love story.”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” he grumbled. 

She pretended not to hear him, continuing with, “Now, your entering the play is a little abrupt, but not to worry, it’s still early days. It’s perfectly fine for you, as well as others, to keep a copy of the script on hand for read-throughs.” She shoved the book in her hand none-too-gently into Felix’s chest. 

“We’ll mostly be running through dialogue scenes and monologues for the first week or so, but feel free to-” she flapped her arms, gesturing around the auditorium, “-I don’t know, practice amongst yourselves here, quietly, or find an empty room. All the world’s your stage.” With that she turned, flouncing off to talk to another group of students in the rows behind them.

“So, Felix,” Annette began, “should we start practising? We don’t have any scenes together, but you and Ashe do! Oh, and I could fill in as Capulet for your lines with him, and then you could play Juliet for me-”

“Absolutely not,” he interjected.

“Alright then,” she said, not even remotely phased by Felix’s brashness by now. “Ashe, will you help me?”

“Gladly,” the freshman said, eyes sparkling.

"Felix? What are you doing here?" A familiar voice called to him, interrupting their conversation.

Oh fuck no. How could he forget that _he_ was in the drama club? Of course he’d be here.

Felix turned to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting those of his ex-best friend, Sylvain.

Sylvain Jose Gautier. Not even 4 years ago, they had been a constant in each other’s lives. Them, Dimitri, and Ingrid, pals for life all throughout elementary and middle school. Then an empty promise of “Don’t worry, guys, high school might be way tough and different and all, but I’ll always make time to hang out with you guys!”

Perhaps it was inevitable for them to drift apart, what with their differences in grades and interests, as well as Sylvain moving out of their neighbourhood further up north after the ‘Miklan’ incident, so he and Felix couldn’t even pop over next door to visit like they used to. But it still hurt, left him bitter and wanting. It had stung all of them to some extent, enough that any run-ins with him, now that they were all reunited in the same school once more, were painstakingly awkward and off-rhythm. 

Just catching a glimpse of made him angry, reminding him of all the times of him disregarding his promises to Felix. His promises to hang out, even though he had flaked on meeting up with his friends to go on dates. His promise to always be there for Felix, even though he had been absent that fateful night he lost a brother to a car crash, and every night henceforth, for that matter. His promise to Felix as children… well that one was just silly. And unlikely to happen, at this rate.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, tugging the sleeve of a protesting Annette. But Sylvain strode over to them, sidestepping briskly across the rows of seats to cut off his exit. “Felix, buddy!” he said. “Long time, no see. You seem…” he struggled to find the right word, “different.”

“And you’re the same as ever,” Felix said, voice harsh. “Loud and unbearable.”

“Ouch.” The redheaded senior winced. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve that. But man, did I miss hanging out with you…”

Felix said nothing, pressing his lips together. Annette and Ashe looked back and forth between them, clueless at his sudden rise in animosity.

Sylvain cleared his throat in an attempt to ease the tension. “So then, what _are_ you doing here exactly? Trying to catch a glimpse of the most charming Mercutio to ever set foot on stage?”

His eyes widened. “Wait, you’re-”

“Oh, Sylvain!” The drama teacher came back over to where they were standing. “I see you’ve met our newest cast member. Felix here is going to play Tybalt, the fiercest foe of House Montague and the instigator of your Mercutio’s untimely death,” she declared theatrically. “Although let’s hope you boys will get along better than your play counterparts.”

Sylvain whipped his head toward him, eyes lit up in excitement. “Wait, you’re playing Tybalt?! Wait, you’re actually in the play?! I never knew you were interested in acting.”

“I’m not,” he groaned. “I was volunteered for it. I’m only doing it for the extra credit.” He shot another disdainful look toward Manuela’s back.

“Still,” Sylvain said, laughing happily. “This is great! Unexpected, but I definitely don’t hate it. Us, hanging out together. You, as Tybalt. Man, I can’t believe I never made the connection, but yeah, you’re Tybalt.” He paused for a moment, looking around. "Knowing you, you haven't introduced yourself to your fellow cast members yet. C'mon, let's go."

"Ugh."

"Aw, come on. Please?" Sylvain tugged at his arm, and the beseeching eyes he affixed onto him was enough to coax him to get dragged by the hand to the needlessly loud trio up front.

"Yo Ferdinand, Petra! And Dorothea, looking beautiful as ever," the redhead senior greeted. A round of 'hello's were returned, accompanied by Dorothea biting her thumb and glaring pointedly at him. Sylvain laughed in response to that. "Fiesty as ever, I see."

The brunette raised an eyebrow. "Did you need something, Sylvain?" She turned to Felix, gaze curious. "And who is this?" Your latest fling?” She nodded toward their linked hands.

Immediately, Felix ripped his hand away, cheeks feeling hot, while his old friend laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, old habit.” Despite his best efforts, his thoughts wandered to his days on the playground and strolling down the cul-de-sacs, hand in hand with Sylvain who took on the role of his slightly older caretaker, chatting to him about the quickest ways to master long division, or the best candies to give to girls he liked. Felix, however, always preferred given his candy to Sylvain instead. 

“Um, no. Though how magnanimous of you to admit I’d have enough game to reel in someone like Felix,” he said, winking. “Nah, Felix here will be joining us for the play. Remember how Manuela said she already had some very out there casting choices? Well, Felix is one of them, playing our very own Tybalt.”

Dorothea tilted her head, perplexed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you join one of our plays before. Have you acted on stage before? Perhaps in the community centre?”

“No,” he said simply.

“Well then. I would never call into question Manuela’s choices, but having a novice play a major role for the first time ever is very ‘out there’ indeed.”

He bristled at that. It’s not like he was thrilled about it either, but he could do without the condescension, thank you very much. Before he could say his piece, Sylvain cheerily interjected with, “Don’t worry about it, guys. He might be new to this, but trust me, he’ll be a natural. He’s like, the Tybalt-iest Tybalt you’ll ever meet.”

“Must you really describe your friend like that?” Ferdinand furrowed his brow. “Tybalt is not exactly the pinnacle of excellence, as a person who is hot-headed and so self-assured in his skills.”

“If you’re the best, I don’t see any point in lying about it,” Felix replied. “And what better way is there to settle an argument than by crossing blades?”

“Ah. I see what you mean,” Ferdinand conceded, looking perturbed.

“I am unfamiliar with this Romeo and Juliet outside of the forbidden love part,” Petra chimed in. “In my country, there are many adapting… adaptations of this, but it was more focused on their marriage and dying. Who exactly is this Tybalt?”

Before anyone sensible could explain, Sylvain drew their attention by leaping onto the seats in the front row and open his big, moronic mouth to say, “Oh, why Petra! He is-

_“More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is_

_the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as_

_you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and_

_proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and_

_the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk_

_button, a duellist, a duellist;”_

The tirade was a sight to behold, leaving Felix absolutely stunned. He had no idea Sylvain was hiding such talent, adamant as he was to not engage in any drama club activities (partly to avoid his old childhood friend in the first place). He recited his lines with ease, clearly and confidently, with a playful grin on his face.

_”A gentleman of the_

_very first house, of the first and second cause:_

_ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai!”_

He mimicked each sword movement perfectly, even while balancing precariously with one foot each on a separate seat, all the while keeping up the charming facade that Mercutio oozed. _So he still remembers his work from when he used to join in fencing classes with him,_ he noted, which impressed him more than he was willing to admit. 

Petra still looked confused. “The what? There is a cat in this play?”

_”The pox of such antic-”_

“Okay, that’s quite enough of that,” Dorothea interrupted, holding up her hand, though she had a proud grin on her face. “Save the rest of it for the stage, you loveable rogue.” She turned to Petra. “Petra, remember the other night, we popped over to Claude’s house and we watched that… questionable movie about the gnomes? Tybalt is Tibble.”

The purple-haired teenager’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, yes! The angry one with the amusing lines. I am wishing you great luck in playing Tibble, Felix,” she said, directing the last part at him.

“... Right. Thanks,” he replied, still thinking of Sylvain’s impromptu performance, the ease with which he could put up a front, to actually look good while making the world surrounding him his stage.

\------

The weekend arrives, gifting Felix a brief reprieve from the mixed feelings of distaste and an odd kind of… almost yearning from seeing Sylvain’s dumb face, and being in close proximity with him after all these years. It was stupid how much it affected him. He was even starting to miss him, a feeling he attempted to slam down and compartmentalise until he had felt it no more.

Unfortunately, the powers that be were not willing to grant him respite from Dimitri and Ingrid, who had barged in early on Saturday morning, claiming they wanted shelter from Edelgard’s scrutiny. “Especially since the presidential speeches and debate is coming up. I don’t want her to get the chance to prepare rebuttals for my points early,” Dimitri said, setting up stacks of papers and a poster board on Felix’s dining room table. Felix’s dad hovered over them, thrilled, as always, to see Dimitri.

“But why did you have to come at fucking _seven_ in the morning?” he complained, pointedly rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Felix,” Ingrid huffed. “It’s not like you haven’t gotten up way earlier for practices and meets.”

“Fencing season is over, and with it my will to rise early.”

“Speaking of which,” Dimitri said, face lighting up, “would you be more amenable to helping us, now that the season is over? We could really use the extra help.”

“I’d rather eat rocks.”

“What Felix meant to say,” Rodrigue corrected gently, earning a withering glare from his son, “is that he’d love to, but he has a prior commitment for the foreseeable future. He’s taken on a role in one of your school plays.” After dropping that particular piece of news, he disappeared once more into the kitchen to continue breakfast preparation, leaving Felix transfixed under his friends’ incredulous stares.

“Excuse me, _what_?” Ingrid exclaimed.

Felix grimaced. “It’s not a big deal. I’m only doing it for extra credit.”

“No, no, no. We need more details than that,” the blonde protested.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a small, insignificant thing and I’m playing a tree in a corner.” He sent them both a glare, silently signalling for them to shut up. 

Dimitri, frustratingly oblivious as ever, went on to say, “Wait, but the play this year is Romeo and Juliet. At least, that's what I heard from Claude." At Felix and Ingrid's questioning looks, he elaborated, “You know, Claude? The new student that transferred here just this year? No?” He shrugged. “Well, he told me you were playing one of the lead roles. I must admit, I was extremely surprised when I found out.”

Ingrid suddenly perked up, wide-eyed. “Wait, by lead in Romeo and Juliet, you don’t mean-?” 

“_No_. Never in a million years.” He sniffed. “I’m playing a swordsman who luckily dies halfway through the play so I don’t have to endure that much sappiness.”

“Okay, _that_ sounds more like you,” she replied. “So does that mean… you know...” Her voice trailed off as she fidgeted in her seat.

Felix sighed. “Yes, _he’s_ in the play as well.” The trio was quiet for a while, the room silent save for the soft sizzling coming from the kitchen.

“How is he doing?” Dimitri asked, finally. “Is he… happy?” It was a question they kept coming back to, in times when they were reminded of their old friend. After their own first day of high school, and they reflected back on the day two years ago when Sylvain came back from the huge, intimidating building, word down but still ready to play with them. Whenever it rained on the way home, and they passed by the old Gautiers’ home (now occupied by a lovely elderly couple), reminded of the day that the police came to take Sylvain’s brother in. When they caught a glimpse of Sylvain in the halls, or around town, wooing another girl, or spotted his name in the school paper or on bulletin boards proclaiming his next role on the stage. The latter moments were only whispered between Ingrid and Dimitri, wary of how testy he got whenever Sylvain was mentioned nowadays.

“Never better,” he said, voice flat and resentful. At least that’s what he believed, before he’d been confronted by the lingering looks and soft smiles the senior directed toward him during play rehearsals, and the kind words. _”Man, did I miss hanging out with you…”_

A little while after breakfast, Felix was corralled into the kitchen for cleanup with his father, roughly wiping down the dishes to dry them. “So,” his father began, in a way that had Felix irritated and wary already, “How _is_ everything with the play going?”

“Fine.”

“Really?” Rodrigue turned toward him, a concerned look on his face. “You don’t seem all that enthusiastic about it.”

Felix responded to that with only a non-commital grunt.

“Because, if it’s really not for you, you could always…”

“I could always what? Join Dimitri on the student council. No thanks.” His mood rapidly turned sour, as it was wont to do whenever he stayed close to his father for too long.

“I just thought it’d be nice to join in with your friends,” his father replied. “Seeing as you’re so unhappy with your… other choice in extracurriculars.” He pursed his lips. “You know, having a leadership role in high school looks really great on your college applications. Your brother was also in the student council-”

“And he’s gone,” Felix retorted, feeling a pang in his chest at repeating those words again, out loud. Rodrigue’s face fell. “It was never my dream to follow your footsteps, or his. So stop trying to push it onto me.” _I’m not him,_ he thought bitterly, _and I’ll never be him_. “Besides, you’re wrong. It’s going great. It’s going fantastically,” he said, insistently.

Rodrigue nodded mutely. “Then I’m glad,” he said.

\------

Slowly, and reluctantly he gets into the swing of theatre. Felix is gradually introduced to the rest of the cast, each more over-the-top than the last. Lorenz, who launches into his flowery speeches of devotion as Paris with fervour. The elusive Claude who seemed to pop up more and more in conversations he was present for, who took his minor role of apothecary very seriously. He even carried his potion bottle prop off stage and into classrooms and the cafeteria, and though he claimed it was just filled with water and food colouring, Felix was honestly not so sure anymore.

There was also the matter of his own stupid brain, which couldn’t help but impulsively train his eyes to the stage whenever it was Sylvain’s turn to occupy it. 

“_O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,_

_O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,_

_O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,_

_Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,_

_Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are_”

Like right now, when Felix trailed off mid-sentence in one of the Friar’s lines while rehearsing with Annette, caught by surprise by the rapid transformation from jovial to intense and mocking in his speech, the mad glint in his eye as he chastised a completely befuddled Ferdinand.

“Oh dear,” Annette cried out dramatically, startling Felix. “It appears that our poor Friar is stuck in a trance! What foul witchcraft is this?” 

“After all he has done for me and my love, Juliet,” Ashe, filling in as Romeo for that particular scene, said in fake sorrow. “What could have befallen him?”

“Methinks it was a charm cast on him, by a certain auburn-haired stud,” Annette said mischievously, an evil glint in her eye.

Ashe frowned, confused. “Ferdinand?”

“What? No!”

“Shut up,” Felix hissed. “It was nothing. You know nothing.” 

“If it was nothing, why do you want me to shut up?” she asked, blinking up at him innocently. 

“Shut up,” was the eloquent response he offered. He glanced at the stage, relieved to see Sylvain was still going on with his monologue, unaware of Annette’s outburst.

He was not as fortunate as he thought he was, however, when Sylvain had caught up to him in the hallway after rehearsal, and said teasingly, “Heard you enjoyed my performance today. It’s quite fitting, seeing as like the fairy queen, you’ve been a presence in all my dreams too.” He winked.

“Whatever you’re doing right now, stop it.” It was certainly getting easier and easier to talk with his old friend, familiarising himself again with their back-and-forth dynamic. It felt nice, filled him with content.

Sylvain raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright. But seriously. Did you think it was good? Any critiques? It’s really easy to overdo, act like Merc’ is really crazy.” He looked at him expectantly.

“No, it was perfect,” he replied truthfully. “You… you’re a better actor than I expected.” The admittance made his face feel warm.

“Oh? That’s pretty high praise, coming from you,” the redhead said, smiling. Felix pushed the doors open, letting them both through.

“It made me wonder though, when exactly you got so good at it,” he continued. “I mean, just because we weren’t on friendly terms with each other, doesn’t mean I couldn’t have… well you know…” 

“Yeah, I know,” Sylvain said. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be near me or see me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. After a pause, he continued with, “You’ve only been doing this seriously for what? 2 years? You look like such a natural on stage.”

“It was… honestly, I didn’t think much of it when I saw a pretty girl on a poster, and a sign-up list for tryouts. I got called in, and did not take my reading seriously at all. Like Dorothea looked like she wanted to kill me, right then and there. But I got in - not as a lead role or anything, just a court jester. But even so, I found myself enjoying it, even though I only had 2 lines and Dorothea probably influenced that casting decision just to spite me.” He looked to the sky, chuckling. “It felt nice, to be someone else for a change.”

Before Felix could demand what exactly he meant by that, he turned to the direction of the parking lot, lazily waving a hand in departure.

\---

It was a close candidates between the three leading candidates, but Claude managed to charm enough of their grade to scrape by with a victory. 

“Well met, Claude,” Dimitri congratulated him, holding out a hand, Edelgard at his side. The petty little rivalry the step-siblings had fostered over the past few weeks instantly vanished when the intercom announcement had finished. 

Claude looked at his hand, before laughing and slinging his arms around his two fellow candidates. “Well, you two certainly didn’t make it that easy,” he remarked.

“Rest assured, I will beat you next year,” Edelgard said, fierce expression returning after being momentarily put out by her loss.

“Calm down, princess, there’s still time for that yet,” Claude said. “How about we all go out for some victory slash consolation pancakes? My treat.”

“Pancakes?” She instantly perked up. “I could go for some pancakes.”

And so Felix was dragged again, squashed with 9 other people in a booth that really only should have comfortably sat 6 people. Perusing the savoury section of the pancake menu, he was completely blindsided when yet again a loud familiar voice called out accusingly, “Et tu, Claude? You guys having a cast get-together without me- Oh.” Sylvain had marched up from behind Felix’s side of the booth, presumably only seeing Claude, Lorenz, and Ferdinand squashed up together from where he approached them. “Heeey, everyone. Dimitri, Ingrid.” He nodded awkwardly towards them. “Heard the announcement at school today, Dimitri. Tough break, man.” He winced sympathetically. 

“Oh, I’m alright, really,” Dimitri said, smiling weakly. “Claude won fair and square.”

“And congrats to our favourite potion-maker,” the redhead said, gesturing toward Claude. “I was wondering why you opted for such a minor role this semester. Seems like you were keeping this whole campaign thing under wraps for the most part. Or maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably the latter,” Ingrid piped up unexpectedly.

A bit of silence. Then Sylvain burst out laughing, “Ingrid, you wound me!” and joined their table, squishing up against Felix who groaned in protest. It wasn’t the smoothest reunion for the four, the resulting conversations between them and their old childhood friend stilted and full of long pauses, and the occasional incredulous outburst from Sylvain who had missed way too much over the years (“Man, how on earth did Ingrid get a girlfriend before me?” he exclaimed, pouting). But it was a start. 

\------

"Cut!" Manuela cried for what seemed like the umpteenth time, making Felix grit his teeth together in frustration.

"Again with the eye contact, Felix. Can you please stop letting your eyes wander? And loosen up your limbs. Your posture is too stiff." Each word of criticism seemed to grate on him. He was annoyed and tired and wanted to walk out, then and there. He brushed past Dorothea, who had been giving him sympathetic looks this whole session, pitying him for not being able to do such a simple task as meet eyes with his supposed uncle.

“Actually, Manuela,” Sylvain said, sidling up to the drama teacher, back turned toward Felix. “Some theatrical interpretations of Tybalt have him refuse to meet the gazes of whoever he deems ‘lesser’ to him.”

Manuela sighed. “Be that as it may, I am focusing on a… less interpretive vision of the play. Besides, he has no trouble at all with this in the scene with you.”

“Then let me and him work on it together,” he suggested, eyes earnest and pleading. “I’ll go through his other lines with him. Please.”

“Fine, fine,” she conceded. Sylvain waved him over, and together they exited the hall, finding an empty classroom to fill.

“... I didn’t need your help,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t trying to do any… interpretations or whatever.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, I was just bullshitting,” Sylvain said, laughing. “Manuela’s much more… easygoing with her actual students.” His expression softened. “I remembered when we were both kids, and you once confessed to me that you didn’t like looking directly into people’s eyes that much.”

“It’s still true,” he admitted. “It’s okay if it’s people like you, or Ingrid, Dimitri, I just… I’m not fond of it.” 

“Maybe you should befriend the guy, then.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Felix protested, annoyed.

“You wanna know something?” Sylvain leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, “neither do I.” The admittance forced a laugh out of him, the redhead joining him and wheezing out, “He’s been in the club with me for two years… I’m also pretty sure he’s a senior too…” 

Wiping the tears away, he continued, “Anyway, Plan B. Just look at his eyebrows, everyone except the front row probably can’t tell the difference anyway.” _Oh_. He could definitely do that, odd as it was.

“As for your posture… yeah, that might be a bit of a problem,” he conceded. “It’s the exact same stiffness as when you’re readying for your fight with me. You’ve got to relax a little.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe think about how you feel after a match? A good match, I mean. Not that you’d have many bad matches, I’d imagine. I mean, you never really did.”

“Okay. How is that meant to help?”

“Mm… it’s like, Tybalt is always wanting to fight. But the periods in between him fighting, he’s going around Verona, being all self-assured and stuff. And yeah, I’m pretty much talking out of my ass again, but the point is, you,” he gestured toward Felix, “you’ve always been your most relaxed right after a win. At least, that’s what I remember.”

Felix quirked his lips up at that. “Perhaps there was a method to Manuela’s madness after all. Getting two people with duelling experience to actually duel on stage.”

“Honestly, it surprised me more than anyone that I still remember most of the stances and movements,” Sylvain replied. “I remember the drills that the instructor made us do, and you insisted on practicing it on the walk home. You, me, Dimitri… sometimes Glenn would join in too, even when he insisted he was too advanced for those.” He smiled sadly at that. “I still feel bad, you know, for not being able to attend the funeral.”

“It’s fine,” Felix said, swallowing down the heavy weight settling in his stomach and chest. “I heard from my dad that you and your parents… Miklan’s trial went on for a while… plus, you and I hadn’t been on speaking terms, so.”

“Yeah…” Sylvain suddenly looked downcast, fiddling with the script in his hands. “I never did tell you the full story from the other day.”

“What?”

“About why I love acting so much. Don’t worry, it’s relevant, I promise.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Well, after Miklan was arrested, sent to jail, disowned, the whole nine yards, my parents wanted a fresh start for me, for the new future breadwinner of the family.” He smiled bitterly, eyes looking down toward the carpeted floor. “I was made to quit fencing, focus on my studies. All these new expectations, to be the new heir of my father’s corporation. I guess at the time, I’d rather have been anyone else but myself.”

“Sylvain… I…” Felix didn’t know what words were right for him to say.

“I mean, I love acting now for what it is, and I’m hella good at it, I think,” Sylvain continued, brightening up. But his smile seemed a little too strained.

“Screw your dad,” he said, bluntly. “You should carve your own path. Feel free to do what you want.”

“Yeah? I’ll definitely think about it. Maybe go into fine arts, instead of law.” He looked considerably happier after Felix’s honest outburst. “What about you? Gonna continue your work as a thespian after this?”

“No. I’m… I’m not fond of it.”

“You hate it?” He clutched at his heart dramatically. “After all the precious time we’ve spent together?”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

“Come on, Felix, it’s me. I won’t say anything if you do really hate it,” the redhead coaxed. “I’m a big boy, I swear not to shed a single fake tear if you do. Promise.”

“I don’t find it comforting in the same way that you find it comforting,” he said. “My dad… my family. They wanted a perfect son, a model citizen. And they got all that and more with Glenn. But then I was left, and…” He pursed his lips. “I don’t want to be anyone else but me. And I’ve told my dad that, repeatedly, but he never seems to get it.”

Hands grasp at his shoulders, squeezing gently, causing him to look up, meeting Sylvain’s gaze. “You’ll always be just Felix to me, Fe,” he reassured him. The gesture sent his traitorous heart fluttering, face flushing from his cheeks to his ears. Why, oh why, was Sylvain so earnest in the worst ways possible?

“Thanks,” he replied, trying not to sound too breathless, “but I’ll also be Tybalt to you for the next few weeks or so.” Still. He appreciated the gesture.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes glinted challengingly.

And Felix tried not to smile too much when they were on the stage once again, and Mercutio kept accidentally-on-purpose calling out ‘Felix’ instead of Tybalt.

He did, however, openly laugh when Manuela started berating the senior for being unprofessional.

\------

It's at Claude's pre-opening night party where Felix is caught by surprise by Sylvain, twice more.

Once was when Claude, on 3 cans of Red Bull and mind brimming with even more brilliant plans than usual, had the bright idea to get everyone to switch parts, scrawling down all the parts on bits of paper and tossing it into a hat. Even the non-cast members who were invited got to take part. Dimitri had fumbled his way through a few of the Prince’s lines, while Hilda had boredly read through the Nurse’s lines while fishing through a bag of Starbursts for her favourite, the pink-coloured ones.

When the hat was tossed to Sylvain, he pulled out Romeo’s name, teasingly wagging the strip of paper around for everyone to see, and then, much to Felix’s chagrin, decided to make him his Juliet.

“_Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy be heap’d like mine,_” he cooed to him, while the rest of the party-goers laughed at Felix’s incredulous stare, “_and that thy skill be more to blazon it-_ ow, Felix!”

“Much to no one’s surprise, Felix did not enjoy your proposition that much, it seems,” Dorothea said, trying to hold back her mirth.

“Yeah, he’s made it abundantly clear to us how much disdain he has for our poor star-crossed lovers, and their tragic ending,” Claude agreed. 

“Which is actually really surprising,” Sylvain said, still rubbing at his arm where Felix had punched him, “since we had a pact when we were kids to die on the same day, right after Ingrid made us all watch The Notebook together.”

Everyone in the packed kitchen whipped around to stare at them. “What?!”

"How to even unpack all of that," Hilda mused.

"I don't even remember this happening?" Dimitri whispered to Ingrid, who gave him an exasperated look. 

Felix mustered up the most annoyed look he could manage while flustered, and left.

And of course, Sylvain, being the irritating force in his life that he always was, followed, calling out a “Felix, wait!” They almost collided when Felix stopped and looked back at him expectedly. “What?”

“Okay, I did not expect that to actually work…”

“What do you want?” he asked, impatient.

"I'm sorry, it's just, all these memories came flooding back and I just blurted it out. Please don't be mad, I-"

"I'm not mad," Felix interrupted. It was the truth, although he felt some irritation at the prospect of more people in their grade knowing about his childhood. "It just caught me by surprise that you remembered."

Sylvain bit his lip. "Listen, the way we drifted apart… that was my fault. And the promise I broke, to always be there for you guys. You especially. But believe me, I've always treasured how close we were, Fe. And I've honestly missed you this whole time. You're… you're so, so special to me.”

“I know. You’re…” He paused, continuing hesitantly. “You’re special to me too.” _More special than you could know. Special in a way I can’t even admit._

But then Sylvain approached even closer, tugging him toward him, hand softly caressing at his jawline. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, leaning in closer.

Felix did not tell him to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Felix: Romeo and Juliet, lovers dying on the same day? Fucking whack. Who would do such a thing


End file.
